A Doctor Who I Have Gone Right Off Of
Lately – well, lately from my perspective, and in geological terms; to you humans, it would seem like aeons ago – I have gone right off that interfering Time Lord twunt who calls himself “The Doctor.”

You lot probably, or almost certainly, know him from the fictional representations of his adventures broadcast on the BBC for the last half-century. These take great liberties with the truth at times, but are more or less accurate. Some of you may even be fans of the programme / him. (One thing I must say: the actor they have cast to represent his twelfth incarnation is spot on).

Back on topic. As you know I am a Time Lord too or at least Gallifreyan, so I have always been aware of “the good Doctor’s” antics. As long as our paths through time space remained separate, I never minded what he got up do, but once he began to interfere with me, he really began to get on my tits.

A long time ago, during my fourth incarnation, I have to admit, I was a bit of a bastard. I’d conquered the planet Mardus and enslaved its population, setting myself up as their King and dwelling in a gigantic black castle the mere sight of which was specifically designed to make the beholder soil themselves. The Mardans were humanoid, slightly elfin creatures, rather primitive – if you’ve seen Avatar, that sort of thing, but without the blue skin. To keep the population in check every now and then I’d send my soldiers into the towns and villages to “harvest” their teenage children. These would be carted back to Kastle Skagra to serve me as I saw fit. There were three broad areas in which I would employ the Mardan teens: one, as simple slaves, cooking, cleaning, gardening, etc; two, as sex slaves, pandering to my every perverted need (I’ll spare you the details, but I was very highly sexed back then); and three, as subjects for torture.

Torture was, I’m slightly ashamed to admit, my Big Thing during that incarnation. I must have tormented to death tens of thousands of Mardan teens, boys and girls alike! I feel no guilt now, as I am literally a different person – and, who knows, my next regeneration might turn me into an even worse bastard. Anyway, over the decade or so I ruled Mardus, I assiduously and enthusiastically tortured all these little humanoids. One of my favourite methods was to lower, inch by inch, a teenage girl into a vat of acid, and pleasure myself to the sound of her shrieks of mortal agony. The boys I used to strap to an operating table and go to work on them slowly and methodically until they screamed for their mothers – and then bring out said mothers, and rape and decapitate them in front of their sobbing sons. And then rape and decapitate the sons. Another good one was to toss one – male or female – into an oubliette and forget about them for a bit, and then after a month or so “rescue” them, and then watch the hope fade from their eyes as I got out the Doginator or the flensing scalpels.

Oh those were brilliant days! And I’m feeling a bit of that bloodlust coming back now, better have a quick wank.

That’s better. Eventually – and you’ve probably guessed what happened – the Doctor heard about my “atrocities” and intervened, kicking me off the planet and freeing Mardus from my reign of terror. Now, everyone thinks the cunt is clever and outwits his enemies, but that’s a big fucking lie, he just zapped me with his sonic screwdriver and when I came to I was hundreds of light years away imprisoned in a glacier on the planet Karthippus. He’s no better than Buck Rogers or Captain Kirk with their ray guns!

Our paths crossed again several times after that, the last time being a real pisser, and it’s the one everyone knows about, despite the BBC strike I engineered (the fictional representation since found its way into other media the most recent being the book by Gareth Roberts). I had this mint scheme to take over the universe by imprinting my mind on every sentient being in the cosmos, and it almost worked, too, were it not for that meddling Doctor. By then I was in one of my favourite incarnations, my eighth, I had this really cool scar and a fantastic white costume with a silver cape and the campest hat you have ever seen! But no, the Doctor had to interfere, the bastard. He was in his fourth incarnation then and he was a really irritating, irreverent git, always arsing about, and that got right on my nerves cos back then I didn’t have much of a sense of humour (and indeed still struggle with that now). He also had this gorgeous Time Lady assistant who I tried to get off with but she was having none of it, the bitch, she was probably already taking the Doctor’s cock from behind as she bent over his TARDIS console.

I digress.

I haven’t run into the time travelling tosspot for centuries now, but next time I do, I’m going to kill him. We Time Lords can regenerate, sure, but there are some things that there’s no coming back from. Inspired by that film Fargo, I’m gonna shove him into a woodchipper, then pipe the contents into a lead-lined casket which I will then fire into a black hole. Let’s see you get out of that one, Doctor!

Oh and his name? That he makes such a big fuss about? His secret real name that he dare not tell anyone? Well, I know it, and I’m going to tell you it now: Betty Swollocks.
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Sat 17 Aug 2013, 19:56, 4 replies)

Heard it before.

( d.r._and_quinch when will you be famous?, Sat 17 Aug 2013, 23:17, closed)

Time gay
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Sun 18 Aug 2013, 17:15, closed)

Tl;dr
Seriously, these are boring as fuck and read like they were written by an autist with a head injury.
( BraynDedd Natasha Kaplinsky's labia majora, Mon 19 Aug 2013, 9:25, closed)

I'm not the Doctor!!!!!!!!
You can fuck right off with those allegations!!
(betty swollocks, Mon 19 Aug 2013, 13:29, closed)